


All That I Can Give

by oldcountrymage



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Secret Relationship, Valentine's Day, schmaltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldcountrymage/pseuds/oldcountrymage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being in a relationship with Anders for six months, Fenris still isn't ready to tell their friends. Anders tries to reach a compromise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That I Can Give

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something cute for Valentine's Day, but it turned out a bit more schmaltzy than I intended. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Notes:  
> -Assumes Valentine's Day occurs in Thedas.  
> -This fic is separate from the main "Fenders fluff" series I'm working on.

“Come on, Blondie. If you’re saying no because you’re worried about going stag, I’m sure Bianca won’t mind me bringing you along as my other date.”

Varric followed his offer with a seductive eyebrow wiggle, and caught the hint of a smirk on Anders’ lips. It was a fleeting thing, but hey, it was progress. Certainly a step up from the outright rejection he’d been met with initially, and it’d only taken half an hour of increasingly suggestive invitations to get there.

He waited for Anders to respond. The mage seemed to genuinely consider the offer for a moment, but just as Varric was about to declare victory, he shook his head.

“I’m fine, Varric, but thank you for the invitation. It’s tempting. It really is.”

“Oh come on, you’re really going to turn down a night with THE Varric Tethras? You’ll be the envy of everyone in Kirkwall with me on your arm! Er, well, might have to be your leg. You’re pretty tall, Blondie.”

Anders laughed at that, and Varric held onto the hope that maybe he’d be able to convince him after all. It was just too depressing to think about the mage all alone in the sewers on a day dedicated to love and compassion. Anders had friends that cared about him whether he wanted to acknowledge them or not. He needed to be with them on Valentine’s Day, not holed up in Darktown dwelling on the lack of romance in his life.

Even possessed apostates with absolutely no sense of taste in good-looking dwarves deserved a little happiness once in a while.

“Varric, really, I can’t. It’s nothing personal.”

“Oh, just let me down easy,” Varric sighed, clasping his heart. “There’s someone else, isn’t there? I thought what we had was real.”

Anders’ reply was cut short by a loud creak as the door to the clinic swung open. Turning to see who’d entered, they were met with the sight of a familiar grumpy elf. Fenris stalked inside without bothering to announce himself, but stilled immediately when he noticed them.

He stared at Varric for a moment, confusion reflected in his eyes, before directing his gaze to Anders. The men seemed to regard each other with something other than complete and other loathing for a split second before their expressions soured.

“Mage,” Fenris said flatly.

“ _What_ , Fenris?” Anders sighed and looked down at Varric. “Varric, I’ll catch up with you  
later. This must be urgent if Fenris is here of his own free will.”

If he didn’t know better, Varric would think it a little suspicious that Anders wanted to rush him out the door as soon as Fenris arrived. Why, it almost seemed like he wanted to be alone with the elf. And was Broody even _trying_ to hide the impatient look on his face?

“All right, Blondie. Offer stands if you change your mind,” he said, smirking at Fenris when he passed the elf on his way out. “Hanged Man, sundown tomorrow.”

* * *

 

When Varric was out of sight, Fenris quietly slid the lock into place and began to undress. Anders watched him from a short distance away, the tension melting from his stance and his grimace softening. He felt heat rise to his cheeks when the mage leaned against one of the cots and spread his legs ever so slightly, the gesture urging Fenris to _hurry_. He didn’t bother with anything beyond his chestplate and gauntlets before rushing towards him.

Fenris raised a hand to cup the mage’s cheek as he pressed against him. Anders closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, nuzzling his hand affectionately. Then, per their routine, he brushed his lips over each of the elf’s slender fingertips in turn. Only when he’d kissed his way from thumb to pinky did he open his eyes. Fenris felt his blush deepen when the mage looked up at him expectantly, silently asking for the kiss on the lips that customarily followed.

Even after hundreds of kisses and far more intimate acts between them, he had not yet schooled his reaction to _that_ look. Before they’d fallen into bed together several months ago, he’d never thought to see a mage look so vulnerable. It still came as a surprise.

Anders’ gaze was one of adoration. Not one of slimy, possessive lust. Not one of reverence or misplaced pity. A genuine look of...love.

Fenris ran his thumb over the mage’s bottom lip, a sudden anxiety preventing him from leaning forward to kiss him.

“Why was Varric here?” he asked softly.

“There’s going to be a celebration at the Hanged Man tomorrow,” Anders replied. “For Valentine’s Day.”

“I see.”

“The two of us could go together,” Anders said, perking up. “Perfect time to tell everyone, don’t you think?”

Fenris frowned. They’d agreed at the beginning of their relationship to keep things a secret until Fenris was comfortable disclosing it to the others. He hadn’t even thought twice of revealing it since that initial discussion… but apparently Anders had. The mage seemed giddy at the mere suggestion, smiling and eyes wide with excitement.

“I...had plans for just the two of us tomorrow evening,” Fenris said, hoping to avoid an argument. They did enough of that when they traveled with Hawke, bickering constantly to keep up their charade.

“Yes, but maybe we could go by the Hanged Man first. We’d just pop in for a bit and horrify our friends with a little kissing, and then we could leave.”

“I am just...not ready to tell them,” Fenris admitted.

“Not ready? It’s been six months, Fenris!”

“Is that an unusual amount of time for you?”

“Well...yes!” Anders said with a huff. “Before this, the only thing that lasted more than a bloody week was with Karl.”

There were many nights Anders curled against his chest in the afterglow of sex and told him about Karl. He spoke of everything, from the man’s terrible jokes to the way he’d felt inside of him. Sometimes he laughed against Fenris’ shoulder when he recounted the ways he’d flustered Karl during his insufferably boring lectures. There were other nights he cried and screamed until exhaustion claimed him. Fenris always listened. Fenris was never jealous.

But that night, his gut clenched hearing Karl’s name.

He was not prepared to be someone like that to Anders. He couldn’t be.

“It’s just...Maker, Fenris, I’m tired of hiding this. I’ve been hiding practically all my life, and you have too. Aren’t you sick of it?”

Fenris pulled away, unable to reply. His heart was pounding.

Anders seemed like he was going to reach out and pull him back, but he crossed his arms instead, face twisting in anger.

“So that’s how it is. You can fuck a mage all you like, but Maker forbid anyone think you actually _care_ about one!”

“Idiot,” Fenris snapped. “It is not --

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to look Anders in the eye.

“I wish to wait for the same reason a mother waits to reveal her pregnancy until it is well along. If I -- if we lose this, the others should not have to suffer with us. I just...want to be sure. About this. Us.”

Anders sighed and shook his head, looking somewhat repentant for his outburst.

“All right, I’m sorry. It’s just...it’s really hard to pretend I hate you all the time. I just want -- look, we don’t really have to screw each other senseless in the middle of the Hanged Man. I just want them to know that there’s _something_ there. They don’t have to know exactly what is it.”

The mage ran a hand through his hair and began to pace, some plot boiling just beneath the surface. Fenris forced himself to lean against the wall and watch him rather than flee. The urge to just run home and drink until he passed out was slowly getting worse.

After some time, Anders stopped pacing and turned to look at him.

“That red thing Isabela wears for Hawke,” he said.

“That…?” Fenris raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a...red thing for me to wear?”

“A favor. That will work, right? It’s subtle enough.”

“That...might be agreeable,” he said after a moment. Yes, he could manage that… it was certainly better than blatantly declaring the truth. “What did you have in mind?”

Anders looked around his barren clinic, seeming to spot nothing of worth, before he started pawing at his robes.

“My coat.”

“Mage…”

“Some of the feathers, then--”

“Stop,” Fenris said before Anders could begin tugging at the pauldrons. “That coat is threadbare enough as it is.”

“I don’t have anything else, Fenris.”

“Then we will continue to wait. Look, I - I should go.”

He hadn’t come prepared to deal with this. He’d come prepared to kiss and fuck and hear about how wonderful Karl was, not be compared to Anders’ most precious friend and lover. That tender look Anders gave him, the realization he’d been with the mage for six surprisingly happy months, the fact Anders was literally about to give him the coat off his back because he...cared about him so much.

He just didn’t know how to do this.

Anders didn’t try to stop him when he headed for the door. Mustering the last of his nerves, Fenris turned to at least say goodbye to him. The mage didn’t look angry, but he was chewing at his bottom lip like he wanted to say something.

“I...need to rest,” Fenris said. “Mage...Anders… I-- will see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

* * *

 

Fenris wondered if the mage would even let him in the clinic after he’d fled the night before, but he made his way through Darktown regardless. When he’d finally worked up the nerve to leave his home, the sun had just begun to sink below the horizon. They could still make it to the Hanged Man in time for the party...if Anders wanted anything to do with him, that was.

He’d thought long and hard on what had happened, and tried to understand his reaction. Why was he so terrified? Was it because Anders was a mage? No, no that wasn’t it...he didn’t think of Anders as “mage” when they fell asleep in one another’s arms. Did he fear Anders would hurt him? No, he’d never truly feared that, even when they’d disliked one another.

Then he’d realized the truth. He’d fled because there was something he was afraid of - not being enough.

It was the same reason he never joined the others for drinks unless Isabela dragged him out, or why he waited for Donnic to invite himself to the mansion rather than asking him over himself. He had nothing to give. Why would anyone want to be with him? Even Danarius hadn’t wanted him in the end. Why would someone ever _love_ him?

But Anders loved him. He loved him and had never asked him for anything...except for one thing that he’d been unwilling to give.

He took a deep breath when he reached the clinic, and knocked rather than let himself in as he usually did. It took a few minutes, but eventually Anders did open the door and peer out.

“If you would still join me,” he said. “There is somewhere I would like to take you.”

Anders came outside and brought the elf into a gentle embrace, resting his chin atop his head.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come back” he said quietly. “After what I said... I shouldn’t have--”

“No. I...I understand. It is just...new to me. Different.”

“For me too, in a lot of ways. Oh… I have a gift for you.”

Anders pulled away and began digging in one of his coat pockets, finally retrieving whatever it was he wanted and offering the thing to Fenris. The elf furrowed his brow in confusion. Anders had handed him a raggedy piece of cloth crudely fashioned into a wristband. He almost admonished the mage for tearing apart his coat despite telling him not to, but then recognized the fabric wasn’t from the coat.

Anders just smiled when he jerked his head up, the realization dawning on him.

How many nights in Anders’ bed had he laid his head upon that fabric to sleep? How many times had he woken to it cuddled between them in the mornings?

“Your mother’s pillow. Anders--”

“I know it’s not exactly fashionable, but it’s all I had aside from the coat,” Anders said, a sadness lingering beneath his smile. “You...don’t have to wear it in public. I just--”

Anders trailed off as Fenris wrapped the band around one of his gauntlets.

“You did not need to do this,” Fenris said when he’d finished. He leaned up to kiss Anders softly on the lips. “But I will wear it proudly. Come. Our friends are waiting at the Hanged Man, and I wish to show them.”


End file.
